


Wyoming, Exit 290

by howdoyousleep



Series: Truck Stops and Fairy Tales [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Truckers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Belly Kink, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Daddy Kink, Fat Bucky Barnes, Fist Fights, Hairy Bucky Barnes, Homophobic Language, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protectiveness, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Small Dick Steve Rogers, Small Penis, Soulmates, Top Bucky Barnes, Topping from the Bottom, Truck Cab Sex, Trucker Bucky Barnes, True Love, and Bucky loves it, and steve loves bucky's big solid gut, daddy bucky barnes, himbo steve rogers, steve rogers is a big boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25759567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdoyousleep/pseuds/howdoyousleep
Summary: Bucky hears the punch from the opposite side of the parking lot.He’s heard plenty of knuckles cross jaws and crack across cheeks in his time on the road stopping off in bars for a beer or two from time to time. It’s a noise you can’t mistake. If you haven’t heard it before you know exactly what it is the moment you hear it, skin meeting skin in a swift violent movement.Trouble is, Stevie isn’t in the cabin nor is he tucked into Daddy’s side when the noise reaches Bucky and he only has about two seconds of sheer panic before he’s hearing Steve’s--“Motherfucker!”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Truck Stops and Fairy Tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766992
Comments: 59
Kudos: 469





	Wyoming, Exit 290

**Author's Note:**

> The continuation everyone has been waiting for! Enjoy the character development, bitty dick, and big belly. 💖

Bucky hears the punch from the opposite side of the parking lot. 

He’s heard plenty of knuckles cross jaws and crack across cheeks in his time on the road stopping off in bars for a beer or two from time to time. It’s a noise you can’t mistake. If you haven’t heard it before you know exactly what it is the moment you hear it, skin meeting skin in a swift violent movement. 

Trouble is, Stevie isn’t in the cabin nor is he tucked into Daddy’s side when the noise reaches Bucky and he only has about two seconds of sheer panic before he’s hearing Steve’s--

_“Motherfucker!”_

If you would have asked Bucky if he could sprint he would have chuckled right in your face, responded with something along the lines of “ _m’body don’t move like that any more, pal_.” But here he is hauling ass between cars, dodging people, and kicking up pavement like he was some kinda football star in a small town who made it big. 

His Daddy brain immediately worries about the worst--his Stevie baby. If anyone so much as laid a finger on his boy Bucky would have absolutely no choice but to kill ‘em. Nobody touches his angel, not a blonde hair on his pretty head should ever be moved outta place and, so help him god, Bucky will wring as many necks as he needs to in order to keep Steve safe. 

He’s ready for a fight, is crackin’ his knuckles in a tight flex of his fist before he follows the noise of some ruckus and turns the corner around the side of the building and-- 

He’s so ready to be a Daddy Bear and protect that his mind hadn’t even considered the fact that it was his own boy’s fist he heard smashing into an eye socket. 

Steve is his sweetness, his little darlin’ baby boy who loves honeybees and is working to collect a shot glass from each state and wears Daddy’s shirt when he gets up in the morning. This is his boy who snuggles in real tight into his Daddy’s side during thunderstorms and nibbles on the tip of his pen as he works his way through his thick book of crossword puzzles. He is pureness and everything good in the world all wrapped up sugary sweet for Daddy but here he is towering over this poor sonofabitch smashed into the pavement beneath him with his fists clenched and chest heaving. 

How easy it is for Daddy to forget that his Princess is a _man_ , all six-foot of him wrapped up in layers of muscle that makes him perfectly capable of breaking someone’s nose. 

The stars align perfectly for the poor sap groaning on the ground because when Steve lunges for him what has to be a second time, Bucky’s thick arm is there to wrap tight around Steve’s bitty waist. He may be a big boy but Steve’s Daddy is much larger, is probably the only person within ten square miles who could prevent this one punch from turning into something that warrants an ambulance. 

“What’ya doin’, sweetness? Huh? _Bug,_ baby _shhh_ , hey now, _easy_ ,” Bucky coos, authoritative but kind, right into Steve’s ear just in case the rage swirling behind his eyes makes it hard for him to hear things too. Bucky feels like he’s taming a wild horse, Steve bucking so thoroughly and recklessly that it requires Bucky to bring his other arm up to wrap tight over his Stevie’s flailing arms. That almost makes Steve even more upset, makes him snarl and thrash a little more than necessary, so Bucky pours more nonsense words into his ear, his jaw, a combination of soothing noises and, “You’re alright, sugar _you’re okay_ , hush now. Calm down, baby come back to me, come on.” 

Bucky drags him back a few steps, Steve’s feet like lead, wanting to stick and stay and fight more, and he can hear Steve sniffle a few times between growls. His pretty blond eyelashes are probably starting to stick together wet with tears even though he’s trying so goddamn hard to not let others notice. Daddy can see, can comfort, but that doesn’t make it any easier on Stevie. 

“ _Bucky,_ lemme fuckin’-- _quit!_ G-get off, let me--”

Someone helps the man Steve had laid into up and Bucky looks at him for a mere two seconds and knows right away Steve broke the guy’s nose. 

“ _Nugget,_ sugar look at him, _look._ He’s hurtin’, you done enough, it’s okay, come on, sugar pie.” Bucky gives him a few kisses to his cheek but keeps his lips pressed into Steve’s temple, pulls his somewhat more willing body back a few more steps. They need to hit the road and they need to do it quick. 

“ _Called me a hooker._ ” 

Bucky freezes mid-step. 

“What’s that now?” 

Steve lashes out a bit, renewed energy, somehow bites out but also shouts, “Called me a _whore_ , thought I was a hooker! M’not… m’not that anymore.” Bucky kisses Steve’s temple again on instinct and immediately, a swell of layered pride they’ll need to unpack later bursting from his chest. 

“N’when I said… when I said I had a Daddy he called me a _fuckin’ fairy_ ,” Steve’s shoulders twist, his hands trying to find purchase on an easy-out of Bucky’s grip, “a fuckin’ fairy! As if he wasn’t the one tryin’ to get _me_ to suck _him_ off in the bathroom!” 

Right then the ugly bastard says something else, mumbles something indistinct that could sound an awful lot like _“was askin’ for it”_ , but that can’t be what he says because if it were then the man would be dead on the ground instead of just bleeding all over his shirt.

Still, Bucky almost lets Steve go, lets his boy go and beat the rest of the ever-living shit out of that fucking guy, but his arms squeeze Stevie all over instead, hold him close at the reaction to having heard the words that just tumbled out of his boy’s mouth. Bucky reminds himself that he’s a Daddy now, that he’s responsible for his baby boy, needs to keep a level-head.

That doesn’t stop him from letting out a rumble or two of his own. 

“We gotta go, sugar come on,” Bucky hears himself say, tugs Steve back some more, “You done hurt him enough, gotta keep you safe. Not lettin’ you get in trouble over someone who isn’t worth dirt, baby. Yeah? Let your Daddy get you outta here.” 

Bucky isn’t sure if it’s the point made that Steve’s done enough physical harm to the guy who called him a _“fairy”_ or if it’s the first bit that makes Steve’s shoulder slump a small enough amount to pull him back easily. Bucky has a sneaking suspicion it’s that part, the bit about Daddy protecting him and taking charge and taking Steve away from a fight. His baby is still spittin’ and kickin’, rightfully so, but he’s moving with Daddy now, is letting himself be pulled away from the chaos. 

Bucky is only slightly concerned about what may happen if he were to let Steve go before they got to the truck together. He’s never seen nor felt his boy so angry, can feel the raw energy of his emotions shaking his chest, can hear the way it makes his breath catch in his throat. He spins Steve in his grip, his arms, to where they’re walking side-by-side, Bucky’s lips still on his temple, arm still tight around his shoulders, his neck. He’s spewing hot nonsense into the side of Steve’s head, pet names and whispered reassurances that he’s okay and that they’re okay, but he’s flying by the seat of his pants. His boy is an optimistic ray of fucking sunshine, not this caged animal that someone else has turned him into. Bucky keeps moving with what feels natural and by the time they get to the truck Steve’s pushing at Bucky’s arms and stepping up into the truck with an added emphasis to every movement. 

Steve has never slammed their truck door _(Daddy taught him better)_ but Bucky feels as if this warrants a slam.

When Bucky eases his way into the cab through the driver’s side door, Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed wringing his hands together, breathing heavy. When Bucky closes his door the noise seems to jolt Stevie out of his seat, makes him hop up with a growl as if his anger can’t be contained. Steve paces. Bucky sits in his chair and watches, turned towards his fiery kitten, open stance, calm demeanor. He feels like he’s on shaky ground as a significant other, a partner, unsure of how to support Steve when this is a mood Bucky’s never seen him in. 

“Stevie baby,” Bucky tries after a few minutes of unrelenting pacing and grumbles, a stop to crack his neck and roll his shoulders as if he’s going to go back out there and whoop someone else’s ass. Steve doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop taking those same few steps, turning around at the same two points. 

“Should’a fuckin’ pummeled his ass, should’a given him more than one punch. Why’d I give ‘im just one? _Fuck!”_

“Bug, that one punch broke his goddamn nose, baby you got ‘im good,” Bucky unabashedly compliments in a gentle tone as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His words don’t seem to resonate with Steve in any way, the younger far too focused on the harm he could have done compared to what he actually did. Bucky feels a bit helpless for a few minutes, isn’t sure what he needs to do, how he can provide for his boy in a way that helps him. This isn’t something he should expect Steve to simply get over and move along; this was a deep cut, one much larger than Bucky thinks Steve is aware of. 

Steve needs release, needs some sort of outlet for his pent up rage, the rage that Bucky didn’t let him follow through with. Steve needs this _something_ but he also needs a firm hand or he’ll jump the fuckin’ rails. Steve needs his Daddy and _god bless it,_ that’s Bucky.

“C’mere, nugget,” Bucky commands in a smooth voice, leans up off of his knees and straightens up. Steve’s pacing is not nearly as aggressive as it was when they first climbed up into the cab, but he’s still spittin’ and grumblin’. He doesn’t step towards Bucky right away, takes a few more paces, and Bucky gives him a patient warning of, _“Sweetness…”._ Steve’s a good boy in his core, always has been and always will be, and even though he might not want to listen to a single goddamn person right now, he listens to his Daddy. 

Bucky feels a bit relieved to be getting his hands on his boy, to curl them around those prominent hip bones, to feel his baby’s legs stand between his own. Steve’s wearing shorts, little short ones that are barely detectable when he’s also swallowed up by one of Daddy’s hoodies. Daddy wants to eat him right up, but that isn’t breaking news to anyone who spends more than three minutes in their presence. What is different, simmering underneath Bucky’s insides, is how _aware_ he is that Steve is his boy. 

Bucky is well aware that Steve is a boy, but sometimes he forgets that his boy is _a man._ Stevie baby is a grown-ass man _,_ was able to stand up for his fucking self and knock some bastard’s lights out with one punch. He’s Bucky’s little dolly, but Bucky would be lyin’ if he didn’t say he’s more than a little hot from seeing his boy fight and stand up for himself. 

“You have every right to be fired up, nugget. You and I both know that,” he starts, voice low and rumbly, just the way Steve likes it, “What do you need from me? How can Daddy help you? Come on, baby.” 

Bucky almost cracks a smile at how stubborn his honeybee is, stomps his foot right there in Daddy’s grip, makes a pitiful noise. He won’t even look down at Daddy. 

“I ain’t a dirty hooker,” Steve bites out and a bit of frustration prickles at the back of Bucky’s neck, has him pulling Steve forward a half-step in a strong grip. 

" _Hey,_ you listen here,” he starts with a stern voice and a little warning shake, “You don't talk about hookers like that. I fell in love with a hooker once and it was the best damn thing that ever did happen t'me." Bucky looks up at Steve as he speaks, makes as much direct eye contact as he can manage with a feisty kitten in his hands. 

“That led me right to you, bug. D’never judge you for your choices but I’ll always support you, would support ya if you still wanted to live that lifestyle. Don’t be mean even though you’re angry.” The next few squeezes Bucky gives his boy are softer ones, sweeter ones, and Bucky makes a noise reserved only for his angel, a specific coo. Stevie’s still angry, still trembling underneath that hoodie, hands shaky but swallowed up by the sleeves of it. Bucky grabs one, brings it up to his lips and presses them to the raw skin of his knuckles. 

“Besides…” Bucky’s voice is much more gravelly than he intends for it to come out as when he looks up at Steve and whispers, “Those choices made me a _Daddy…_ ” 

Steve’s fingers twitch in Bucky’s hold and he manages to finally look over and down at Daddy, and _oh_ his baby looks so upset, so emotional. He’s gotta let it out, can’t keep that garbage inside. 

“Those choices gave you a Daddy didn’t they, sugar?” 

Steve, bless his heart, is nodding his head without thought, without pause, confirming the one thing they are most certain of in life. A head nod is good, an immediate one is better, but Bucky needs the best right now. 

“Say it, baby. Wanna hear it,” and heaven on earth is but hearing sweet baby Steve Rogers murmur, “Got me you, Daddy. You’re my Daddy, Buck.” And then everything shifts. Their energy is given a different route to take, no longer negative and self-loathing, and one that is much more heated. They’re finally looking at each other, chin tucked and head tipped, and Bucky’s hands slip right back up to those slim hips with a vengeance. 

“That’s right, baby boy,” Bucky purrs, giving Steve’s little body a good squeeze under his hands, “M’your Daddy. But sometimes Daddy forgets that he’s got himself more than just a sweet angel baby. Daddy forgets that you’re a big boy, _a man_ …” 

Bucky feels his heart rate rise, feels his grip on Steve get a little more forceful in a move he finds himself unable to control. Steve’s throat bobs as he takes an audible gulp, the splotchy skin of his neck visible in full as he does so, and Bucky wants to suck on it. Instead he lets his hands wander a bit, slides them around to that Georgia peach of an ass inch by inch, watches Steve’s face for any sign of discomfort. 

He doesn’t get one. 

“Sometimes Daddy forgets that you don’t need a Daddy, that you did and would do a damn fine job’a takin’ care of yourself, honey. Daddy forgets that you _let him_ be your Daddy.” 

Steve’s fingers come to life and find themselves digging into Bucky’s shoulders with a warm curious noise. Bucky gives him one back right in return, kneads lightly at the handfuls of ass cheek he’s holding. 

“You’re a big boy aren’t you, bug? Big _and_ strong. How do you think it makes me feel? Knowin’ a man like you gives me the privilege of bein’ his Daddy?”

The noise Steve lets tumble from his lips isn’t quite a whimper yet isn’t fully a moan, his hands moving on their own accord to cup Bucky’s neck. His grip is tighter than normal. 

_“Daddy…”_

_“Mmm,_ wanna hear you say it, baby. Tell them what you are, _tell ‘em._ ” Bucky’s voice shakes like a tire veering outside the lane line and bouncing along a rumble strip. As his arousal amps up with each passing second, so does his anger. Fuck that prick for makin’ his Stevie feel any kinds of bad, for him not seeing that this golden-haired sweetheart is strong as hell in more ways than one. Steve’s eyelashes are clumped together from fallen tears, bitter and angry ones, but those are long forgotten when he bites out a gravely, _“M’a big boy_.”

_Fuckin’ hell._ Bucky can feel his cock fatten up in his jeans, lets himself openly revel at what feels like newfound muscle and strength under his boy’s skin, all across his body. His hands travel rather wildly down the backs of Steve’s thighs, his calves, feels more muscle there too. His hands scurry back up the front of Steve’s body and they’re slipping under _his_ hoodie ( _his fucking hoodie on his fucking boy)_ when he eagerly guides, “Louder, speak up. You’re confident, come on.”

Steve growls, a noise that mirrors Daddy’s previous one, thumbs digging into Bucky’s jaw and the little kitten bends, gets right in Daddy’s face. 

“I’m a big boy, a...a man.” 

Bucky’s groan is disguised as a chuckle, fingers raking up Steve’s stomach, taking a risk and scratchin’ a bit as he goes. His boy gasps but he makes a hot noise, a purr that starts to sound like Daddy’s own, deep and from his chest. Bucky’s fingers find those pretty pink nipples, a metal bar through each nub, tweaks at them, rolls them between his fingers. The sight of Steve keeping his eye contact but groaning through his clenched teeth, rolling up on his toes a tad, is almost enough to push Bucky into cardiac arrest. 

“Hell fuckin’ yeah you are, Stevie baby. You knocked the life outta that bastard, broke his nose in one goddamn punch, _my strong boy,_ you’re strong as hell, bug,” Bucky hypes, voice one long thunder roll that makes Steve rumble right along, tugs on Daddy’s hair a bit at the words. Steve makes a noise, somethin’ sweet, and makes a move to lower himself into Bucky’s lap but he stops Steve with a firm grip. 

He’s eye-level with his boy’s dick trapped in the polyester of his short shorts. He reaches for them without thinking, rugged palms vastly different than the soft velvety skin of Steve’s tummy, and his boy’s moan is like honey dripping down the back of his neck. It’s dark, different from his normal sweet sighs and little squeals, deep from his gut, his chest, yet another reminder that his boy is a _man._

“Daddy…” Bucky can hear Steve’s gulp while his eyes are preoccupied with the sight of his baby’s sweet little prick coming into view, paws pulling shorts down powerful thighs and a rippled waist. 

“Yeah, bug you tell me, use your words like a big boy,” Bucky encourages, the back of his hand rubbing casually against the hard line of Steve’s cute little dick, making the kitten gasp and groan. He grips those hips of his baby with one hell of a grip, an abnormally aggressive one. He wants to keep this energy up, wants his boy to feel like a man, a proud man who stood up for himself and who he is. Bucky almost wants to wince when he feels Steve tug at his hair, hands pushing Bucky’s hat back and off, sends it sailing to the floor. 

“Wanna...want you to--”

“No, sugar-- _tell me._ Just like you’re tellin’ them you’re a big boy you tell Daddy what you want. _Tell me.”_ Bucky shakes Steve’s hips as he talks, pushes his boy around as much as he feels comfortable in the moment, and Steve’s eyes go _wild_. Bucky sees it all click a bit, sees his boy get pushed and guided over this metaphorical edge. Steve’s knees come up and he’s stepping out of his teeny shorts when he tries out, “You...you need to s-suck my...my dick, Daddy.” 

It’s laughable, _comical_ , his little baby muffin trying his hand at some version of Daddy dirty talk. Steve Rogers looks like someone who should be commanding at all times, large enough in all ways to command an army, but Bucky is the only one who knows the true Steve Rogers, the angel that is his sweet babydoll. He’s gotten so used to the sweet sighs, wet suckling noises and thigh-trembling squeals Steve gifts him with that hearing this sweet boy try and spout of some filth of his own instead of answering questions is almost amusing. 

Almost. 

Because hearing Steve stutter out a flimsy command makes Daddy rumble, makes Daddy feel proud and aroused, like a wave of hot electricity rocketing through his body. Daddy’s gonna listen to his boy, _his man._

_“Yeah?_ S’that what you want, bug? You wanna make Daddy suck on your cock?” Bucky asks, pushes his hands up Steve’s hips, sweeps the fabric of that goddamn hoodie up his tummy a bit. He looks up the line of Steve’s body, meets his boy’s ocean eyes, stormy at hearing Daddy refer to what he normally calls his bitty dick as a cock. It’s powerful, it’s different, it’s got Stevie baby lookin’ like he is a bull about to be let out of a cage. 

He looks his Daddy dead in his eyes, gives his hair a tug, and demands, “Suck on my cock, Daddy.” 

And Bucky is but the best Daddy in the world and orders are orders. 

Bucky can’t help but groan through his shit-eating grin, purrs, _“‘Course, baby,”_ and leans forward with his mouth wide, unnecessarily so. 

One of his favorite things about his little dolly is his sweet little dick. It’s petite and pretty and pink, a vast contrast to the rest of his body, hangs there between a pair of large and perfectly smooth balls. He’s the prettiest little nugget that Bucky’s ever set eyes on, all Daddy’s, and if his baby wants him to suck his dick and hype him up that’s exactly what’s going to happen. 

Steve isn’t used to such a dominant role, is used to repeating after Daddy and takin’ it like the pillow princess he is, and that’s glaringly obvious as soon as Bucky has Steve’s dick resting on his tongue. It isn’t quite a mouthful, but Bucky hums around it as if it is, knows for damn sure any part of his boy he can get in his mouth is the best thing he’s had in it. Steve’s own noises, bless his heart, are a little high, a little whiny, make him sound like he’s barely above the waterline as he pushes up onto his tippy-toes. 

“Da... _Daddy_ , ngh yeah…”

Bucky hums some more, almost leans into the tight grip on his hair, bobs his head and slips his lips up and down his boy’s little prick. He wants his angel to spout filth, wants him to let that anger out, to tell Daddy what to do. So, he makes a small, _“Mhmm,”,_ laving his tongue along the underside of Steve’s dick easily and entirely.

“Take... _oh god, Daddy_ , take that...that c-cock,” Steve tests out, voice cautious but confident in his verbal experimentation and Bucky moans, squeezes at Stevie’s pert little ass with both big hands as encouragement, two beautiful handfuls of the ripest of peaches. The movement makes Steve sway forward some, makes his hips pulse just the same, and Bucky _moans_. He wants _that,_ wants Steve to fuck him in the only way they’re comfortable with. He pulls off with a languid slurp, an exaggerated one, and rasps, “You gonna fuck Daddy’s mouth? Huh? Show ‘em how big boys do it?” 

With his chin tucked, Steve nods his head frantically, brings both of his sizable hands down to Bucky’s head, slides his fingers right through his hair, _tugs._

“ _Yeah,_ Daddy wan--gonna fuck your mouth, gonna...gonna put my big cock in there,” Steve tells him, voice shaky but eager, rushed. Bucky groans, opens his mouth back up, sticks his tongue out and looks up at his _man._ Steve whines as he presses forward, slides that dick right back between Daddy’s lips, and Bucky moans and sputters like he’s chokin’ on it. It isn’t physically possible, his baby so small and sweet, but Steve needs these dramatic flairs, these exaggerations. 

Steve naturally struggles to find his rhythm. He can’t stop pressing up onto his toes and can’t time the pull of Daddy’s hair and the push of his hips right. He’s huffing less than two minutes in, angry at himself at falling out of Bucky’s mouth more than a handful of times. The last thing Bucky needs is Steve back to square one, back to being fueled with emotions and upset, so he grabs a hold of those powerful hips, makes a noise as he tilts his head back and looks up. 

Stevie baby is close to tears, cheeks splotchy, almost sniffling. Bucky massages anywhere he can reach, smoothing out those anxieties, hopeful that his gaze is an encouraging one. The hands in his hair go soft and Bucky can see Steve take a steadying breath, can see him do his best to utilize those breathing and centering exercises they’ve practiced. 

He pushes Steve’s hips back slowly, sucks and tightens his lips up on his sugar’s prick as he does so, pulls him back forward before he slips out of his mouth. His mouth is preoccupied but Bucky hopes his gaze says all the words he can’t-- _“You’re strong, sugar. Make me take it, come on show ‘em all how strong you are, how you can get what you want from even your Daddy, come on.”_

With Bucky’s help Steve finds his rhythm and pace, and with that rhythm and pace comes the signs of an impending orgasm. Bucky figured this would happen, his nugget sensitive all over and so keyed up, so Bucky amps it up. He makes noises like he’s taking a dick from behind as he suckles on Steve’s own, loud ones that convey how hard he’s being pushed. He sputters and slurps, moans and chokes when he can, and soon his hands and guidance aren’t needed. 

Steve’s taking what he wants and how he wants it, hands rough in Bucky’s hair and hips pumping solidly against Bucky’s face. He even starts to feel spit dribble out from the corner of his mouth and he moans at the feel, his own cock reminding him with a jump in his jeans that he is, in fact, hard as a fuckin’ Arkansas diamond. 

The positioning of Steve’s legs is one that better helps him fuck into Bucky’s mouth, a little spread as he balances gracefully on the balls of his feet, and Bucky takes advantage of it. Steve sounds a little like he’s chokin’ on his own spit, thrusting his hips forward with such force that his smooth lower tummy bumps against Bucky’s nose, his chin. His sputters turn into a squeal when Bucky’s fingers, slick with spit he wiped from his own chin and lips, rubs and swirls between Steve’s legs, right behind those pretty balls. 

_“Fuck,_ Bucky yes god do it—gimme a few fingers, Daddy. Open me up.” 

And Steve doesn’t even ask, doesn’t stutter and end it with a lilt of a question mark; he demands it. He demands it like he is the one who is a Daddy, like he’s in charge. Arousal pools like liquid fire at the base of Bucky’s neck and he groans, uses said fire and the lick of flames Steve is giving off to reach up with his free hand and pinch _hard_ and that pretty boy nipple and that pretty pink jewels at the ends of the metal bar running through it. And Steve, _that fuckin’ minx of a thing,_ moans, shouts, grabs for Bucky’s fingers and dips his head and _sucks them right between his lips._

Bucky might come in his pants like a teenager necking underneath the bleachers at a high school football game. 

_“Oh, bug,”_ Bucky rumbles as he pulls his mouth off of Steve’s dick with a lewd and unnecessary _slurp._ He’s but a man, _a Daddy,_ gotta look up and watch his angel suckle on his finger in sheer reaction, obviously rolling with the first thing that comes to his mind. His tongue runs along the pads of Bucky’s two fingers and Bucky _pants_ looking up the line of his boy’s body. The fingers at Steve’s hole take note of Steve’s own tongue, its movements on Bucky’s fingers, and mirrors them. They press and slide and prod in a way that makes even Bucky dizzy. 

“Come on, boy. Tell me what you want, now,” Bucky demands, doesn’t want to lose the traction they have. Steve nips at his Daddy’s fingers, teeth digging into meaty joints with a grumble. 

“Want you to finger me open, wan’you to get me ready so I can sit on your Daddy cock,” is what Steve mumbles, presses his hard little prick forward into Bucky’s chin in a sloppy movement Bucky would bet his life was involuntary. Bucky goes cross-eyed.

“Tell me.” 

Steve _snarls._

“Open me up.”

Bucky is reaching for the bottle of lube stashed behind his seat as soon as Steve’s lip curls up to speak. The sweet baby, always sugary at his core, kisses at the pieces of Bucky’s fingers that took the brunt of the assault of teeth, whimpers as he does so. Bucky coos, _rumbles_ , lets Steve bring his spit-slick fingers down to his own nipple again. He _whines,_ looks down at Bucky pleadingly as he swirls Bucky’s own fingers around his nipple. 

_“Fuck yeah,_ look at that. Take it, whatever you want, handsome. You take it.” 

Bucky pinches at Steve’s nipple as he fumbles with the snap cap of the lube bottle in his other hand, is nothing short of a multi-tasker. It’s a rough pinch, a tight one, one that Daddy wouldn’t give his boy but would give _a man,_ and Steve takes it in stride with a toe-curling groan. 

It’s almost as pretty as the one he lets out when Bucky gets his now lubed up fingers back at Steve’s darling boy pussy. 

Steve doesn’t even hesitate this time, doesn’t even wait to command Bucky to his liking, just spreads his legs where he stands and mumbles, “Wanna feel it for days, Daddy. Make it hurt.” It makes Bucky’s gut curl, makes those words strike a deep and unfamiliar chord deep in his chest. He detests thinking about his boy hurting, would never want to bring his boy harm in any fashion, but this is something new. Steve’s bitty hole a pretty pink puffy and sore a day, two days, _three days_ after Steve uses his Daddy to show that he’s worthy and capable and _a man_? 

Well, that’s just somethin’ else. 

Steve may be huffin’ and puffin’ and tellin’ his Daddy just what to do but he still makes that pretty delicate noise when Daddy slips a finger inside of him. Bucky wonders briefly how different it must feel for Steve, standing up, but he’s sure that adds to the contrast of their current predicament. The hands on Bucky’s shoulders, capable and sturdy, dig in tight.

“Fuck, Bucky. _Daddy,_ ” Steve moans, low and airy, and Bucky can’t take his eyes off of Steve’s face, neck strained up to watch. 

“Yeah, sunshine show ‘em how you take it, how you take it like no one else could,” Bucky encourages as he closes the gap between his lips and Steve’s tummy for a few slippery kisses, “No one could take me like you do, baby take me so good. Your Daddy’s a big man, not just anybody could take me, need a big boy who can handle me.” Steve doesn’t even have to tell Bucky that he wants another finger after a short amount of time; Bucky can tell. He knows his boy.

“You're _my_ Daddy, Buck. _Mine,_ ” Steve grumbles with a tug at Bucky’s chestnut hair, and it’s a true growl, one coming from the heart and from the soul. Stevie _feels_ this one. It makes Bucky purr out his own rumble in response, in confirmation, has him letting two of his meaty fingers slip a bit slowly into Steve’s bitty hole, letting his baby’s body pull him in. 

“All yours, sweetheart. Never anyone else’s.” 

Steve is quick to shake his head. _“Never._ I’m the big boy, m’the one who takes it. _”_

Bucky gets three fingers sunk deep between Steve’s legs, _pumping and twisting and stretching_ , before the blond cuts him off with a shout. He’s surprised Steve even lets him get that far, almost certain he’d have to use his Daddy power to make sure Steve was safe and ready. Bucky is achin’ up a storm in his own pants, cock heavy and strained in his jeans, wants to be swallowed up by the sweetest pretty pink there is on the face of the Earth. 

Steve goes to step up on his tippy-toes with a squeal, Bucky letting his fingers glide safely from the younger’s smooth boy pussy, and he starts to stand in order to move swiftly to their bed when— 

A hand on his chest pushes him back into his seat. 

Pushes _him._ Bucky.

“No bed. Here.” 

Bucky’s groan is so loud he feels the vibration of it between his teeth. 

_“Ohh,_ yeah? Gonna ride your Daddy silly right here in fron’a God and everyone, use his cock? Yeah?” As Bucky talks, his fingers work on his jeans, opens them up, carelessly wiping remaining slick onto his own pants, his shirt, _who fucking cares._ Steve is nodding, gets pushy and moves his body to mount his Daddy, and Bucky pushes up the hem of the hoodie engulfing the rest of Stevie’s form.

“Off, _off_ c’mon, baby all a’ya, wanna see—.” 

Steve is a vision. Bucky knew it findin’ him across that dingy truck stop on that fateful day and he knows it now as he wraps his big hands around a soft slim waist and hears Steve whine, _“Daddy…”_ as he reaches around behind him for Bucky’s cock. Bucky wants to tell him that, wants to remind Steve he’s an _angel_ and that Bucky’s a better man because of him, that he has improved Bucky’s life and that he’ll never be the same. But when Steve saddles up, chest in Daddy’s face and palm searching for purchase behind Bucky, all encouragement goes right out the fucking window. 

_“Ohh, doll_ oh there ya go…” 

Bucky’s known it this whole time, since that truck door closed and since he dragged his sweetheart away from that fight, that Steve needed to feel in control. He knew it with that little prick between his lips, gaggin’ on a half-full mouth with a hand tight in his hair. He knew it with every huff and every demand. He knew it but he is in no way prepared for it. 

He isn’t prepared for Steve to show him that newfound control and confidence, that need to push someone around, until his leaking cock is swallowed right up by a hot slick little hole in one forceful go. Bucky is barely able to hear his own howl because of another tug on his hair, eyes damn near crossing at the onslaught of sudden sensation. 

“Daddy, watch me,” Steve gasps, lip curling as his sweet behind _grinds_ somethin’ devilish down into Bucky’s lap. “Watch me fuck you like a big boy does.” 

Stevie isn’t physically fucking his Daddy, this Bucky knows. But Bucky feels like he’s getting fucked in every other possible way. Steve doesn’t even start slow, doesn’t take his time like he tends to, loves to _feel_. After a few sensual rolls of his lower half, ones that have Bucky scrambling for a home for his hands, Steve is bouncing. Steve is fucking himself right there on Daddy’s cock in Daddy’s driver’s seat of Daddy’s 18-wheeler, not holding back and _taking it_ just like Bucky wanted. 

Lord, is it heaven. 

“Ohh, Stevie... _fuck_ , darlin’. S’a big boy right there, feel so fuckin’ good.”

_“Yeah?_ M’makin’ you feel so good, like no one else can. No one, _fuck.”_

It isn’t a question and Bucky almost hollers at hearing it, scrapes his hands up Steve’s torso and gives his boy a throaty noise in response. There’s no better place for Bucky’s dick than Stevie baby’s sweet pussy. No toy, hand, body, dame could ever compare. It’s always hungry, always ready, eats Bucky up like it’s its purpose, hot and tight and slick. Bucky watches on reverently, head tilted up and eyes dancing, as Steve completely loses himself in the first few minutes of claiming Bucky. 

He’s not only telling and showing the world that Bucky is his Daddy, he’s moreso showing the world that he’s the one that is a strong man who gives Bucky the _privilege_ of being his Daddy. Steve is strong, physically and mentally, and no local hoosier is about to call Steve a _fairy_ and get away with it. 

A few minutes in of bouncing on Daddy’s cock and Steve’s frustration shines through in the form of transparent desperation. It isn’t enough, he needs more. His whimpers are turning into heavy huffs through his nose, the fingers digging into Bucky’s neck and shoulder going distressingly tense. Bucky can’t have that, _Daddy_ can’t have that. 

“Hey, _hey_. Don’t leave me, listen to me. You can still bounce, _yeah there ya go,_ but listen to me.” Bucky straightens up in his seat, wraps a thick arm around Steve’s pretty waist. His lips land on Steve’s chin as he goes to speak, tries to not let the feeling of that sweet pussy clenching and milking on him distract him too much. He lets a hand slide down to Steve’s ass where he smacks it in a tight motion, grabs at it like a piece of meat, shakes it in his hand, a physical encouragement of sorts. 

“You feel that?” he asks when his fingers drag even further down, rub up between Steve’s cheeks where they’re connected. He presses his fingertip in _tight_ against the top of the blond’s sticky asshole, can feel the skin of his own cock fuck in and out of that boy pussy as it should. Steve keens, follows it up with a rumble. His hips piston on like a well-oiled machine, _god bless ‘im,_ sticks his hands in Bucky’s hair. Bucky nips at Steve chin when he doesn’t get an answer right away. 

_“Uh-huh!_ Yeah, yeah I feel it, feel it, Daddy.” 

“You know whose that is? Huh?” 

Steve’s answer is immediate and predictable. _“S’yours, it’s Daddy’s…”_

Bucky presses his teeth tight against the sharp edge of Steve’s jaw, wraps his other arm up the line of Steve’s back. He grabs onto a shoulder and pulls _tight,_ makes Steve sit there with a full pussy while he speaks. 

“That’s yours, Steve. _Yours._ You let Daddy have it but it’s _yours._ You hear me?” Bucky doesn’t anticipate his own emotions, how strongly he feels about Steve taking ownership over his own body. His voice is almost dripping in unused authority and danger, something he hasn’t heard himself use in years, and it makes Steve _sob._

“You own that pussy, you fuckin’ make it feel good. It’s okay to want things rough sometimes, l’tell ya if it’s somethin’ I don’t want. You know that.”

Bucky’s hands grip and squeeze as he moves them down to grab Steve’s peach, two gorgeous handfuls, and he doesn’t hold back and he grabs at them, kneads at them. He’s so used to being soft and sweet with his kitten and it’s not that this isn’t a welcomed momentary change, it’s simply different. It’s different and necessary in this moment and Bucky _likes_ that. 

He sucks a hot little mark onto the underside of Steve’s jaw, pushes and pulls at his baby’s ass, makes him move and rock on Bucky’s cock. His baby sounds so sweet, so goddamn sugary, little curious noises pressed into Daddy’s temple. 

“You wanna make Daddy take it? Yeah? You wanna push him around, get some anger out? _Let’s go._ Show ‘em.” 

Bucky gives himself entirely over to this moment. He takes a few breaths to feel Steve’s smooth tummy rub up against Bucky’s fuzzier one, his bigger one. He listens to the bitty noises Steve makes as his mini prick rubs a sloppy mess all on said stomach. He flexes his hands around his dolly’s ass, squeezes it tighter around his own angry cock, gives it one more good smack before pulling his touch away altogether. 

“Look at me,” Bucky demands and Steve’s eyes are like a stormy sea when he looks down at his Daddy. 

“I love you.” 

Steve’s hips twitch. 

“I love you more, Buck.” Steve’s voice is so delicate, so breathy. There’s no way in hell he loves Bucky more but Bucky lets it slide. He licks into Stevie’s mouth, a lot sloppy and with a groan, cuts it off with a hand around the column of the younger’s throat. He squeezes at flushed skin as he pushes Steve back and the angel baby _moves_ like water in a creek _,_ trusts Bucky and lets himself be pushed and guided and whines at the feel of it.

“Now take it, boy.”

Bucky rarely lets himself squeeze at Stevie’s throat, no matter how much he begs for it, and one constricting squeeze has Steve moaning like an easy boy. With his back pressed against the steering wheel, his pretty body all spread out for Bucky like a buffet, he’s _moving._ Steve takes his pleasure, brings his own hand up to squeeze it around Bucky’s, head falling back as his hips dig and roll. 

It’s the most erotic thing Bucky has ever seen in his whole goddamn life. 

“There ya go, come on now.” 

This renewed energy is somethin’ else entirely. Even in this bent position and no help from Bucky, Steve is a champ. He’s determined, bounces his tight little body and lets his hips roll, moves with breathtaking fluidity. Bucky pants, watches the show that’s playing out in his lap, looks on as Steve reaches for the steering wheel behind him. 

He doesn’t believe his eyes when Steve brings his feet up, squeezes them in tight on either side of Bucky’s thighs, even tucks a few toes under a trunk, and _bounces._ It’s absolutely filthy, all spread legs and little determined grunts. Bucky barely has time to question whether or not he’s seen anything like it in a porno. 

“That’s a big boy, _yeah_ show everybody where you take your Daddy.” 

Steve gives Bucky a noise that’s somewhere between a squeal and a groan, garbled and messy just like his hips. Bucky can see it, looks down and can see where his fat cock stretches out a blushing pink rim, can see it glisten and slurp. Bucky’s vision goes hazy at the sight of fat ass cheeks nestling themselves against the bushy base of his cock again and again and _again_ and—

_“Fuck,_ Daddy yeah…!” 

Bucky’s toes curl in his boots, let’s his eyelids lower as warm pleasure curls and swirls around his belly, his balls. His bug is tight all over, so fuckin’ small, grips and pulls at Bucky’s cock so aggressively it sounds like they’re fighting rather than fucking. 

The prettiest sight of ‘em all, the one thing that might make Bucky blow his load right here and before his sweetheart, is the sight of Steve’s mini dick bouncing with every movement, smacking against Steve’s tummy. 

It makes Bucky holler. He doesn’t intend for it to be a holler but it’s unrestrained and blaring, makes Bucky sound like he’s celebrating roping a calf in record time. Steve’s laugh is more of a guffaw, music to Bucky’s ears as he takes the chuckle in stride and keeps pumping his hips like a good boy. Bucky loves the way Steve looks, smile reaching his eyes and his chest and neck flush, loves how he sounds with his petite whimpers filtering through. He loves it so much he does it again.

“Look at _you,_ goddamn. They hear you loud and clear, sugar _fuck.”_

“Bucky, _Daddy_ …feels so fuckin’ good. Want ‘em all to know, wish I could—”

Bucky’s hand skates up Steve’s torso, muscles rippling under his hand, and he needs everyone to know.

“Do it then, tell ‘em,” he husks out, tips his head to the string of the horn swaying above Steve’s shoulder. Bucky swears he sees Steve’s eyes sparkle, not one to back down from a challenge, and the mischievous little kitten is reaching, _stretching,_ body something out of a magazine ad and—

People within two miles of this god-awful truck stop can surely hear their rig’s horn. Steve gives it one long pull, bounces on his Daddy’s cock, gives the horn a few pulls to mirror his own movements. Both of them make some sort of celebratory noise, Bucky hollering some more and Steve giggling, and Bucky’s heart aches at the sight. 

This is his boy. This is the Steve he knows and loves, not the one those people made him into. How dare they change him in any way. Bucky vows to spend every one of the days he is gifted with ensuring that his boy feels strong enough to face any adversities that come their way.

Bucky’s untimely sappy thoughts cause his groin to stir, his insides to whirl. His mouth drops open a bit, can’t catch his breath with it closed, and when his eyes refocus he sees Steve looking back at him with an equally hungry look on his face. Steve’s panting too, chin tucked and noises all sorts of desperate now as his legs tremble, the _good_ kind of desperate. One glance down to Steve’s angry leaking prick has Bucky licking his lips. 

_“Buck…”_

“Yeah, sweetness c’mere lemme—” 

And then they aren’t far apart anymore, unable to stand the distance between them any longer. It was fun while it lasted but Bucky needs to feel his angel come, needs to feel that negative energy leave his body in the form of pleasure brought to him by Bucky himself. Steve scrambles, _the sweet baby,_ reaches for Bucky as Bucky reaches for him. It’s messy, it’s chaotic, but it’s perfect. It’s them. 

There’s a hand in Bucky’s hair, another on his jaw. Bucky’s are both on Steve’s bottom, lifting and pushing, and Bucky fucking _drinks_ in his baby’s noises right onto the tip of his tongue. 

_“D-Daddy…!”_

Bucky’s face breaks out into a grin as he lets out his groan. 

“Yeah, angel c’mon. You used me damn well, now give Daddy what’s his.” 

A hitch in Steve’s breath, a few more desperate noises and movements. Bucky knows what’ll get him. 

“C’mon, pretty— rub that sweet pussy off on’ta Daddy’s belly…” 

Works like a charm every goddamn time. 

Steve’s orgasms are loud, always so, an incredibly vocal lover. But Bucky is almost surprised when he _feels_ Steve coming before he _hears_ it. He can feel the walls of Steve’s pussy begin to flutter around his cock, can feel the way Steve’s stomach clenches, the way his breaths get all bottled up in his throat, but very little noise comes out. 

Until Steve _wails._

It makes Bucky’s own orgasm hit him like a freight train. Steve is clutching at Bucky, searching for him even though he’s touching him in every which way, sobbing into the top of Bucky’s head as he continues to _take_. Just like Daddy told him. 

_“Fuck_ , that’s it, baby boy _aw shit_. C’mon, take it all.” 

Bucky’s almost certain that he’s the only force moving Steve at this point. Sweet boy is trying, is pulsing his hips as best he can, but Bucky is the one who moves Steve to his liking. He’s the one who uses his nugget’s body to prolong his orgasm, grunting in time with the pulses of pleasure that wrack his body. Just like everything else today he knows, yet is not fully aware, of how different this orgasm is going to be. It makes him pull Steve uncomfortably tight, makes his teeth dig into Steve’s shoulder a bit, makes his noises make him sound like some sort of animal. 

And his baby loves him right through it all.

They remain seated in that disagreeable position for quite some time, breaths going back to any sort of semblance of normal. Their chests heave and Stevie gives his Daddy special whimpery kisses any place he can reach. It’s quiet, much more quiet than the inside of this cab and the insides of their minds. Bucky feels like he’s come out of battle, feels like he’s fought the good fight and won. His hands move and glide at their own accord, slide over smooth skin, lips pursing where he can as well. 

“That was... _wow,”_ Steve whispers, bringing his legs down in an unrealistically graceful move while still remaining tucked into Bucky’s lap. Bucky just holds him like the little dolly he is. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That was a lot, honey.”

“Bad?”

Bucky is quick to reassure. 

“No Steve, never. It was perfect, just what we needed, wasn’t it?” 

Unrecognized tension drains from Bucky’s form when Steve pulls his head back to look down at his Daddy and murmurs, “S’exactly what I needed, Buck. You always know.” 

Bucky smiles, a crooked and lazy thing, terribly fond. He uses the thumb to swipe away at some of the sweat that’s beaded up on Steve’s brow. 

“‘Course I do,” he says, “ain’t that why I’m your Daddy in the first place?”

The sentiment earns Bucky a warm, wet little kiss, but it's not long after that when Bucky snaps-to that they just blew their rig's horn in the middle of a diesel dispensary that's also a fuckin' family travel stop, and a manager or state trooper or someone is sure to be on their way to investigate things soon. It’ll be a cold day in hell when Bucky lets them see his sweetheart’s naked body in the driver’s seat. 

They move together, clean off together, settle into new clothes together. It feels right that they’re more quiet than normal, feels right to continue to let the silence and peace wash overt the two of them. Steve stands on his tippy-toes to kiss Bucky on the nose and then the lips, sugary sweet, settles back into his seat by Bucky’s side in another one of Daddy’s sweatshirts swallowing him whole. This time it’s one Bucky picked up from the Grand Canyon.

It feels right riding off to the next town, feels better and better on Bucky’s insides the further and further they get from that truck stop behind them. They’re okay. Bucky did his job as a partner and as a Daddy. His boy is safe and he’s happy and they’ll talk some more when they’re good and ready. They aren’t necessarily riding off into the sunset, sun overhead midday, but Bucky feels an odd sense of deja vu. 

He’s made this trip, has driven this stretch of road elsewhere, but had taken a bitty boy with him. This time he’s got a man by his side, has an equal partner in his rig with him. 

“When we stop next...can I have an Icee?” 

Bucky’s worried his grin will break his face right down the middle. Always a child at heart. 

“‘Course you can, bug.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on tumblr (where there may be some bonus Trucker Husbands content)!
> 
> [@howdoyousleep3](https://howdoyousleep3.tumblr.com/post/190667560196/updated-masterlist)
> 
> [@the1918](https://the1918.tumblr.com/post/613869899452907520/lynnes-the1918-masterlist-see-all-of-my) \- [#Trucker Husbands](https://the1918.tumblr.com/tagged/trucker-husbands)


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